“You have dinner with me Valentine’s Day.”
She narrowed her eyes, the momentary look of surprise replaced by the stubborn, challenging look he knew well. It was the look she had when confronted by a difficult problem that she was determined to solve.
“Francis…” Her tone was warning.
“You trust me, right?”
“I guess, but…” She rubbed her forehead, brushed her hair back.
“Are you afraid?” He knew that would push her over. Violet never turned down a challenge.
“Afraid? Not at all.”
“Then let’s go.”
****
After an hour, Violet stretched. “Show me your score.”
Francis pushed his iPad over to her and she frowned.
“Well?”
“You won.” With a moue of annoyance, she slid his tablet back to him.
Francis laughed. “Don’t be a poor loser. It doesn’t become you. You took the bet.”
Straightening her shoulders, she turned to face him. “You’re right. I agreed to the bet and I lost. Nevertheless, no flowers, no chocolates. This is just friends, right?”
“It’s always been just friends.” He gave her one of his slow, sly grins. “It’s whatever you like. But you can’t get out of it.”
“All right.” She flung her arms out in a gesture of surrender. “You got me.”
“I hope so,” he said.
****
The day before Valentine’s Day was hushed and quiet around the office. Everyone was laboring to meet the Friday deadline. Violet hunched over her laptop and her iPhone, fingers flying over the keys at a furious pace. Though she had sequestered herself in the farthest corner of the sitting area, Francis strolled in and sat next to her.
He leaned over and peered at her screen. “What’s this?” He squinted. “Background checks are not a good use of company Wi-Fi.”
Violet elbowed him. “As controlling partner, I override that. I’m doing a favor for Moira.”
He read aloud. “Dishonorable discharge…snipers…anger issues.” He leaned back. “Moira seems to be perennially acquainted with dangerous people.”
“She likes it like that.”
“You have very interesting friends, Violet.” He took out his phone and ran his finger over the screen. “You’re not going to stand me up tomorrow, are you?”
Violet glanced at him, and then went back to her screen. “What a silly question. I keep my promises.”
“May I make a request?”
“You may. That’s not to say I’ll honor it.”
“Wear a skirt.”
She stopped her texting and typing and looked up at him. “A skirt?”
“Yes, a skirt. Are you familiar with those?”
“Are we going someplace fancy?”
“I can’t say, but it’s good to be prepared.”
Violet went back to gathering the information for Moira, grinning. “All right, Francis. I’ll wear a skirt. For you.”
Chapter Eleven
Violet clicked a few keys, stared at the result on the screen, then tapped on a few more keys. A smile spread across her face.
She picked up the telephone on her desk.
“Francis.” Violet spoke into the telephone as she tapped on the keys, her gaze never leaving the screen. “Come now, would you? There’s something you need to see.”
Less than two minutes later he was in her office, closing and locking the door behind him.
“What going on?” He pulled her laptop so that he could see it.
Violet pulled it back and glared at him. She pointed at the screen. “I think we got it. Every test I’ve run says we’re clear. We’ll pull the software off the hard drives, get them uploaded back to the server…” She clapped her hands in glee. “We did it.”
He shifted the laptop back towards him, tapped on a couple of keys, nodded. “I believe you might be right. Heh. You did it.” He bumped shoulders with her. “Excellent work, Vee.”
“We did it. Fantastic accomplishment, Francis.” She sat back in her chair. “Let’s take a moment to bask in our collective glory, shall we?”
****
“Rogers, good news.”
He turned from his monitors to see Francis standing in the doorway. “What’s up?”
“Whatever was plaguing the system is now gone. You, Pete and Alyssa can upload what you’ve done back to the server and put it together for submission. How’s that looking so far?”
Rogers nodded. “It looks good. We’re mostly done, except for the extra finishing touches.” Which was true for the other programmers, but not for him. He had done next to nothing on his portion of the code. Why bother?
“Then put the finishing touches on and upload it. Vee and I can take a look at it later on.”
“She’s in today?” He hadn’t seen mini-Mussolini all day. Usually she made it a point to visit their offices to say hello and chat with Alyssa. “I haven’t seen her.”
“She’s here.” Francis checked his watch. “You can leave when you’re done.”
“Sounds good.”
“Thanks, Rogers. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
Rogers nodded. “Happy to help.”
His friend lingered in the doorway as if he were considering saying something else but then drummed his fingers on the doorframe. “Ring me if they’re any problems. I’m hoping there won’t be.”
“Will do.” Rogers wished he would leave.
“All right. Later.”
Chapter Twelve
The one thing she hoped was that the skirt and blouse she suffered wearing all day was appropriate for wherever they were going. She’d snuck in the back way and hid in the office all day so that no one would see her. The good part of it was that she was able to put the final changes on the submission packet and clean out her email inbox. Francis had said nothing about either her hiding out in the office all day or her clothing, but she could feel his eyes on her every time she crossed the room.
“Are we going?” She went to retrieve her coat. As she shrugged into it, she was somewhat annoyed to note that he was still behind his desk, head bent over his iPhone. “Francis? What time are the reservations?”
“There are no reservations,” he said. “I never said we were going out for dinner.” He got up and helped her out of her coat. “I would never subject you to something that I know would make you uncomfortable, Violet.” He flashed her grin as he hung up her coat. “You, in a restaurant on Valentine’s Day? Never.”
“So…we’re not having dinner?”
“Of course we’re having dinner.” He took her arm and guided her out of the office. “Take a walk with me.”
****
Rogers’ hand shook as he typed the master password. When this whole thing began, he thought he would throw a program on the system and slow them down enough to miss the deadline. Everything changed when the Edu-Gaming competition chopped two weeks off the end of the preparation period and the subsequent phone call from Avarix. His fingers stumbled and he had to re-enter the password.
He’d never passed on the word that they were to upload the software to the server. All he had to do is upload a dummy file and reactivate the program to delete it. Simple and easy and NorthStar would be done. He moved the mouse to the MathMage folder on Pete’s computer. Three clicks of the mouse later, Pete’s software files, and his portion of the program that he was supposed to de-glitch were unreadable. He moved to Alyssa’s computer and did the same.
When he was done, he shut down his computer and went downstairs. Lingering and thinking about what he’d done to his friend and the company in general was something that he didn’t want to think about. Instead, he focused on his new job and the huge bonus that awaited him.
****
The small storage had been a catchall for empty computer boxes, recycling, and the miscellaneous items that people wanted to get out of their offices “just for a minute.” As a result, it had metamorphosed into a space c
rammed with so much stuff that no one dared to try to clean it out and scuttled by it as if it were a mad relative locked in a back room. But someone had taken care of that.
The random junk was gone and the tiny room held a small round table draped with a dark red tablecloth, two chairs, and two covered plates. Francis lit the two candles that sat in the middle of the table and turned off the overhead light, turning the room into a romantic setting for two.
She stood in the doorway and tried to take it all in. “My goodness, Francis. Did you do this?” Realization hit her. That’s why he was in and out of their office all day while she was trapped, hiding out.
He guided her to one of the chairs. “Not by myself.” He poured her a glass of wine, the burgundy liquid swirling into the glass, glowing in the soft candlelight. “I had some help.” He sat.
“It’s nice,” she said. That was the understatement of the year. The small changes turned the room into something spectacular.
Francis gestured at her covered plate and then poured himself a glass of wine. “Go ahead and eat before it gets cold.”
Violet reached for the linen napkin, shook it out, and placed it in her lap, still in awe that Francis would go through this many changes for her. When she lifted the cover from her plate, she gasped and sat back in her seat.
“You don’t like it?” His voice sounded anxious. “I thought—”
“It’s the same dinner I had with you at the convention.” She raised her eyes to his, noting his watchful expression.
“I remembered how much you enjoyed it.” He took the metal cover from her numb fingers and set it aside. “Eat. I doubt you’ve had a decent meal in the past week, judging by what you’ve been having for lunch.”
“I eat when I get home,” she said automatically, picking up her knife and fork.
“Liar,” he said, taking the cover from his own plate. “How many frozen dinners have you been through this week?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“Proves my point.”
Too overwhelmed to eat, she picked up her fork and played with her mashed potatoes. A lump had formed in her throat and she was afraid that even if she did eat, she wouldn’t be able to swallow. He did all this for her?
“You don’t like it?” he asked again.
Francis didn’t miss a trick.
She nodded and scooped a forkful of mashed potatoes in her mouth. “No,” she said when her mouth cleared. “I love it.”
Still, he watched her and she stabbed some green beans and shoved those in her mouth.
“You can have mine, if you don’t like yours.”
Violet burst out laughing, covering her mouth to avoid spraying half-chewed green beans all over the table. “I don’t eat baby sheep. You’re a terrible person, with your lamb chops.” She shivered in mock disgust. “I should report you to PETA.”
“You report my lamb chops, I report your fur coat.” He cut the meat, chewed and swallowed with exaggerated relish. “Despite what you tell people, it’s not fake.”
“My parents bought that for me. It keeps me warm.”
“You shouldn’t lie, Violet, it’s bad for the soul.”
She reached for her wine glass and took a large swallow, the alcohol warming her stomach and rising to her face. “Sue me then.”
His eyes glinted behind his glasses. “I’d rather spank you.”
Violet flushed, the blood roaring in her ears. She’d rather he’d spank her too. Feeling hot, she looked back down at her plate, at the candles, anywhere but at him. “You’re terrible, Francis,” she managed to say and took another swallow of wine.
He refilled her glass. “Glad you think so.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes.
Violet broke the silence. “Thank you. This is nice.”
“It follows the rules, doesn’t it?” He dropped the cover on his plate and drained his wine glass. “Keeps it in the office?”
“Yes,” she said. “It does.”
“Why the rules, Violet? What are you frightened of?”
She stared at her plate for a moment, thinking. Then she looked up at him. “Because you and I are business partners. It could turn messy.”
“Could is a conditional term. If we haven’t been at each others’ throats in the past two trying weeks, I think we could get on pretty well.”
Violet toyed with the last of the potatoes, drawing a pattern with her fork. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But I’ve been through the wringer. I’m a little shy.”
He smiled a little. “Didn’t stop your curiosity.”
Violet raised a hand to her face. “Please, don’t bring that up. I was tipsy. God, how embarrassing.”
“It’s not every day that I’m asked to prove or disprove a rumor about…”
“Don’t say it.” Her face was hot with shocked embarrassment. “It’s horrible enough to remember.” She giggled a little. “It was a spur of the moment question. If you had been a gentleman, you would have ignored it.”
This time Francis laughed aloud. “With your hand down the front of my pants?” He shook his head. “Who am I to deprive you of the answer to your question?”
“Jesus.” Violet tossed her napkin on the table and shook her head. “I must have been out of my mind.”
“I call it persistent.”
Before she could speak again, he reached down next to him and placed a long, narrow box on the table. “Bought it for your birthday, but wanted to give it to you now.”
She didn’t reach for the box. “Liar. You didn’t buy this for my birthday.”
“Open it.”
Violet couldn’t take her eyes off the little black box. Francis, what are you doing? He was breaking out of the neat little compartment she was trying to keep him in. A Valentine’s Day gift. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
“First tell me the truth.” She gave him a steely glare. “Come on.”
He had the good nature to flush, splotches of colors showing high on his cheekbones. “Yes, I bought it for Valentine’s Day.” He cleared his throat. “Happy? Now open it and stop giving me a hard time.”
With a trembling hand, she reached for the box. The leather was cool under her touch. The green bow slid off in one smooth motion and she flipped it open. Nestled against the black velvet was a silver filigree chain with a mouse charm. The mouse was studded with clear crystals from the tip of its tiny nose over its rounded belly to its tail. Pink crystals accented the ears.
Violet pulled it from the box and held it up, the chain warm in her fingers. She couldn’t do any more than that. Her breath hitched in her chest as she stared at the jewelry.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “I love it.”
Francis cleared his throat. “Well, you have to put it on, to see if it fits.”
He got up and stood behind her, took the delicate chain from her fingers. He brushed her hair off the nape of her neck, the brief touch of his fingers making her shiver. The silver was cool against her skin and the charm, when fastened fell against the swell of her breasts. She brushed it with her fingers.
“I love it,” she repeated, tears stinging her eyes. She blinked quickly, fighting them back. The dinner, the present, it was too much. Being tired made her over-emotional. “Thank you, Francis.”
“I thought about what you said, about the mouse versus the swan thing and while I don’t quite agree, I do understand your thought processes. I saw that, and thought about you.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “I found it to be a very pretty mouse.”
He was so near to her, his proximity, his scent was nearly too much. “You keep this up, Francis, I’ll be so head over heels for you, and you won’t be able to get rid of me.”
“That,” he resumed his seat, “is what I’m hoping for.” He poured more wine in her glass. “For the road.”
****
The pink-white glow of the outdoor lights illuminated their two vehicles parked next to each other. Francis’ hand at the small of
her back was welcome, even comfortable, and she allowed herself to lean into him as they walked out. She waited as he locked the lobby door, her breath pluming in the cold night air.
Francis looked around at the nearly deserted parking lot. “The coffee shop lights are still on.”
Violet turned around. “Maybe he’s busy grinding beans for tomorrow.”
Francis glanced at his watch. “He’s there mighty late.”
Violet shrugged. “Probably left them on by mistake.”
At the car, Francis took her into his arms and kissed her, running his hands under her coat.
“You look beautiful, hot, and edible.” He nipped at her earlobe and planted a kiss at the curve of her neck. “I’ve wanted to do this all day.” He claimed her mouth and kissed her with such intense passion that it left her breathless.
She slid her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with an equal passion, every nerve in her body awake and tingling.
Kneeling, he ran his hands up the silky nylon to the warm skin above the band of the stockings and slipped her panties down her legs. He pushed her skirt up to where she could feel the whisper of cold across her pussy and then she was enveloped by the warmth of his lips and tongue. Sighing at the contact, she closed her eyes and spread her legs wider, each hot stroke of his tongue against her clit pushing her closer to climax.
The pressure of his mouth intensified, making her gasp, and clutch at his head while trying to maintain her balance. Her nipples tightened, rubbing against the lining of her bra, increasing the frenzied ache between her legs. She braced herself, one hand against the car and one against his shoulder as the physical sensations increased, waves of pleasure coming one after another until she cried out with her climax, digging her fingertips into his shoulders.
He stood, his hands busy under her skirt as he continued to press and stroke the slick intimate flesh. Pleasurable aftershocks darted over her skin and she grabbed his hand to still it. “Are you trying to kill me?” She panted in his ear. “You’re terrible.”
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